Beautiful
by spectrum700
Summary: Katniss comforts Peeta after an episode while a terrible truth lurks on her conscience. (Post-Mockingjay, smut, first one-shot!)


_Taking a study break to write my first one-shot! Among the many perks of being single is that you get to fantasize about Peeta Mellark with no guilt... If you like this, please check out_ Gale's Amaranth, _my longer work-in-progress. Enjoy, __and if you would be so kind, please let me know what you think!_

_All the best,_

_Red_

* * *

**Beautiful**

"Don't cry," I whispered, cradling his face in my hands. "You're safe. I'm right here, and I'm never, ever going to let you get hurt."

Peeta gazed up at me, his eyes wide with terror and remorse. Eyes too beautiful to be filled with so much pain. I knelt over him, careful not to cut myself on the broken glass scattered around us.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, choking back sobs. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

"Don't be sorry," I told him gently, wiping a tear from his cheek with my thumb. "I love you and you're mine. That's all that matters."

Peeta tried to smile, and I rewarded his effort with a grin.

"Let's get you to the sofa," I said, mustering all of the cheer into my voice that I could manage.

I helped Peeta up from the ground and walked him slowly over to the sofa. He settled into the cushions, and when I tried to cover him with a blanket, he pushed it away and reached for my hips instead.

"Oh no you don't," I chastised playfully, but followed his lead and eased myself onto the sofa beside my husband.

"I love you, Katniss," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around me. "I'll get better. I will. I'm not going to stop working at it until you don't have to worry ever again-"

I pressed my finger to his lips to cut him off.

"I'll worry if I want to, hon."

Peeta smiled weakly.

I couldn't tell him. Not now, when he was so fragile. When I was so fragile.

"Come here," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against mine. I giggled, but it came out false. Peeta pulled back, alarmed. "Katniss? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I assured him, leaning in to kiss him before he could ask any more questions. I pressed my lips against his, and after two soft pecks he let me in. I traced my tongue lightly along his lower lip and then caught him between my teeth, taking my time before moving in. Peeta beat me to this, claiming my mouth with a passion that had my core rolling with envy.

"Just seven more months," he whispered between kisses. I was so grateful to hear the joy in his voice. If the thought of being a father could bring him back from the hell he had struggled through this afternoon, then I would let him revel in it. "You're going to be a wonderful mother."

"Someday," I whispered, seizing his hips to distract him from my half-truth. In the past few months, he had become much less timid, and now embraced the hardness that he had once tried to hide from me. "That's right, hon," I sighed as he reached for the hem of my shirt. "You're safe."

Peeta reached boldly up beneath the loose fabric and took my breasts in his hands, massaging them just the way that I had taught him in the shower two months ago.

It was no wonder I had conceived our child that night.

I slipped out of my shirt and then reached down to unzip his pants. Peeta went heavy in my arms, allowing me to do all of this work for him. He watched fearlessly as I pulled down his boxers, and smirked when I sighed at his erection.

"You're beautiful," I told him as I playfully stroked his length. The sensation made Peeta squirm and buck his hips.

"Katniss," he sighed.

"What, do you want something?" I teased, grazing my lips against his without granting him another kiss.

"I want- Katniss!" he exclaimed as I squeezed his length, making him gasp with craving.

"Oh?" I taunted.

"Just- do- it!" he gasped, quivering as I stroked him more boldly. He reached for my pants, nearly ripping them from my hips.

For a moment, I could almost forget the morning that I had spent alone, behind the locked bathroom door, while Peeta opened the bakery before sunrise. I could almost forget how hard I had been trying to scrub the dirt and blood from my fingernails when he walked into the kitchen just before dinner. I could almost forget how he had poured himself a glass of water, and then hurled it against the wall, collapsing into an inexplicable fit of screaming and sobbing, terrified to the core of his being.

Peeta seized me and kissed me furiously. The moments blurred together and suddenly he was inside of me, pulsing with life. I clung to him, let him fill me, claimed him as my own again and again.

"I love you," he sighed when we both collapsed back down into the cushions. "And you," he said, playfully stroking my belly. "Gosh, Kat. She's going to be so beautiful. I can't wait to meet her. We're going to love her so much, you'll see. She'll always be safe. I won't let anything hurt her, I promise."

So that Peeta couldn't see the hurt in my eyes, I kissed him again, tasting the words of hope that he had offered me.

Tomorrow I would have to tell him the truth. That his baby was buried in the yard, beneath the primrose bushes, where I had laid her to rest after my miscarriage early this morning.

She was so beautiful.


End file.
